Rubbing my eyes as if I’d just woken up, I climbed down and hurried to the two guards waiting at the door. They didn’t say anything, but I knew why they’d come. I followed them out into the dark morning and to the roll-call square, where the crowd had already gathered.

“Today marks the final day of our chess tournament,” Fritzsch said when we arrived. “You know the rules, Prisoner 16671. After roll call, instead of joining your work detail, you will meet me here by the shelter booth. The first round will consist of five games between the guards. Those five winners will play against you.”

While Fritzsch droned on about who would be competing today and other such trivial matters, I suppressed a sigh. Although this tournament had been my idea, I preferred my games against Father Kolbe to these incessant rounds against the guards, spending all day in the roll-call square with no one but Fritzsch and the SS men. I’d lost count of how many games I’d played each day, but the guards had relished it so much that Fritzsch had already promised to have another tournament soon. At least my plan was keeping me from manual labor—and above all, keeping me alive.

My two guards remained beside me. While Fritzsch continued speaking, one turned to the other and spoke in a low voice. “Who are you betting on?”

“I’m not watching the tournament today,” his companion muttered as he lit a cigarette. “Not now that Kommandant Höss is back from Berlin. If he catches me slacking after what happened yesterday, he’ll have my head.”

“That’s right, you told me about that,” the first one said as he twirled his club. “Why the hell did the kommandant get so angry over a simple question?”

The other guard shrugged. “I welcomed him back and asked how his trip was, then he forbade me from prying into secret Reich matters and threatened to have me transferred. My family would never forgive me if that happened, so from now on, I’m following orders and keeping my mouth shut.” He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “I imagine Kommandant Höss will be here soon. Last night, he said something about spending today in the main camp.”

“After roll call, we should advise Fritzsch to reschedule the tournament. God forbid anyone disobey the kommandant’s orders,” the other man said with a snigger.

As I listened to the conversation, my hand strayed toward the small pocket inside my uniform. I pressed my fingers against the fabric to feel the pale blue rosary beads and silver crucifix tucked inside.

Live. Fight. Survive.